Legion
by ToTheBlueberry
Summary: The Winchesters are on the tail of a demon ripping its way through Missouri: a standard case for them. Or so they think, until they discover that this demon is a protector of the Princes of Hell, arising only when a Prince is killed. Can they kill Legion before he kills them? Or does this demon have something worse in mind for them?
1. Legion

**Hello my dear readers, and welcome to another fanfic by moi. For what started out as a little plot bunny, this has kinda exploded, but I've had a lot of fun with it. This is pretty much finished, I just need to tie up the last few chapters, so don't worry about me abandoning it halfway through (if you've read my other stuff, you'll know that I tend to do that).**

 **This is set pre-12.19, before they get Dagon and before Cas disappears (still don't wanna talk about that episode). Anyway, enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine. However, the hilariously horrible headaches that I give to the hilariously adorable characters of aforementioned Supernatural are.**

* * *

"I'll just be happy to gank this S.O.B.," Dean rummaged around for his pistol and the devil's trap bullets. Sam had already painted a pentagram inside, but it was always good to be safe for once. He handed Sam the demon blade hilt-first.

"Yeah. Who would've thought something like this would become a milk run for us?"

"Heh. Yeah." Dean glanced up at the darkening sky, "We should get moving. He'll be back soon."

Sam nodded. Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala and followed Sam inside the building that they'd tracked the demon to. It was an abandoned warehouse. Why did it always have to be abandoned?

Sam took up his position by the door. Dean double-checked on the pentagram painted just inside the closed door. Deeming it satisfactory, he went to take up his place in front of the door.

And waited. And waited. Sting operations were not his forte- he much preferred instant action. But Sam insisted this was playing smarter, not harder, so-

Dean tensed as he heard footsteps crunching in the gravel outside the door. He made eye contact with Sam, who nodded, shifting his footing. Dean raised his pistol, ready to shoot.

The door creaked open slowly- and, god, why the hell wasn't it oiled? This was classic cliche horror movie, right here. And, unfortunately, Sam and Dean were the white guys.

A booted foot appeared through the door, followed by a leg, then a body. The demon's face was blocked from their view, cast in shadow. Dean's finger tightened on the trigger, but he held back when Sam stepped forward and got in a good stab to it's side, instantly retreating back towards Dean after making what should have been a killing blow.

But the demon kept walking. A fizz of ochre weakly emanated from the wound, but nothing more. It's eyes were focused forward.

It took another step until it was smack in the center of the devil's trap. It knelt down, splaying it's hand across the still-slightly-sticky paint. There was a dull shaking in the room- it only lasted about 5 seconds, but when it stopped Sam saw that the concrete slab floor was sporting a huge crack. It ran across the center of the room, straight through the devil's trap, leaving the ground marred and uneven.

And the devil trap useless.

Dean took three successive shots with the devil's trap bullets, each one ringing out loud as the last. The demon jerked back with each shot, but he stayed standing. Dean stepped back, protectively putting a hand to Sam's chest and forcing him to take a step back too.

"What the hell?"

"Yes. Hell," the demon's voice was powerful, echoing in the recesses of the building. It paced forward, moving with agonizingly slow deliberance over the devil's trap.

"Nice try. Clever. Good to know that you're not just brutes. Surprising," he inclined his head towards Dean, who was fuming. He shot it in the head- the demon rolled his eyes, looking up at the bullet wedged in his forehead.

He plucked it out with two fingers like a splinter. He flicked it away, sending it clinging on the ground.

Dean followed it out of the corner of his eye, but kept his sight trained on the demon.

"Dean?" Sam's voice took on that tone, the one asking for guidance. Run? Fight? Regroup?

"What the hell are you?"

The demon's snarl dropped, replaced with a displeased frown. His eyes went unfocused, and a second later they began- changing. Spasmodically. Flicking between normal hazel human eyes and black, back and forth, almost too fast to register. They all looked the same, but they were different. They were the eyes of every demon stuck in that poor host. The host's face moved with each passing flicker, twitching and wincing with the surge of power.

As the eyes continued to flicker, the demon answered, "We are Legion," his voice was darker, "One, but many."

It's face- it's true form- was invisible to them, but it too changed with each flick of the eyes, a quick series of monstrous snapshots. The last eyes to flash before them were the bloodshot, unfocused eyes of the host before the color settled again to charcoal black.

It briefly closed its eyes as if to compose itself, and the frown was replaced with a smirk.

"You know what would be better than killing you?" It stepped forward. The door slammed behind it by some unseen force, making both Winchesters flinch. Sam hefted his blade, although he knew that it was useless against the demon. Dean replaced his gun with an angel blade. Dean was muttering an exorcism under his breath. Legion pointed a calmly dangerous gaze at him.

He raised a hand, crooking his fingers. Dean's throat closed up, forcing the words of the exorcism to flee from him as he tried to breath under the force crushing his windpipe.

"Dean!" Sam rushed towards him, but somehow that motion ended up with him flying backwards, crashing into the wall. Stars flitted across his vision as his head snapped back against the wall- he would've been on the ground had it not been for the demon pinning him in place.

The demon stood directly in front of Dean, looking down at him with something akin to pleasure. He twisted his hand and Dean's splutters were completely cut off- he fell sideways, fingers scrabbling uselessly at his throat.

"I don't want to kill you," the demon knelt down next to Dean, looming right above his face. He forced the angel blade out of his hand, twirling it between his fingers. He dug the blade under the collar of Dean's shirt before popping the top button off of Dean's flannel. He flicked the fabric aside and twisted the tip of the knife into his skin, right below his collarbone.

Right on top of his tattoo.

Blood dribbled down, soaking into his shirt. Dean, for all the good it did, fought like a rabid animal, kicking and thrashing. He could barely make out Sam shouting above the Niagara-esque rushing of blood past his ears.

The demon shook his head, tutting, but weakened the force on his throat. "There are things worse than death. All these fools, trying to kill you- making you one of us would be so much more enjoyable." The force on his neck was completely taken away when the demon braced Dean's shoulder, easily pinning him down with one hand. Dean took a gasping breath- but air wasn't the only thing that went in.

The mouth of the face above him opened wide, and insidious black smoke poured out. Demons.

Legion.

'Enjoyable' didn't sound very enjoyable to him at all. Sam, from his half-conscious state, was able to send a frantic thought, a plea, a prayer of help. He helplessly watched- and he struggled, oh did he struggle- as black smoke slithered into Dean's mouth like poison.

Get here in time. Please.

The next few moments happened too quickly for Sam's concussive state to register. There was a whooshing sound, the beat of wings for just a brief second, and Dean was gone, leaving the demon kneeling over empty air. Dean found himself in a motel room. Sam was deposited next to him a second later, stumbling to regain his footing. He whipped around to face his savior, who was equally fast. As he turned, Cas lunged at Dean, putting an angel blade to his throat.

"Leave him," Cas growled. He forced the demon to step back until he collided roughly with the horrendous floral wallpaper of the motel room.

Dean snarled, green eyes flashing black.

"You kill me, you kill him. Either way, we win," the demon laughed manically, throwing his head back in ruthless mirth despite the blade still digging into his skin. Cas, the epitome of stoicism, began repeating an exorcism- Sam didn't recognize it, but he recognized a few of the lyrical words as Enochian. Apparently it was an actual Enochian exorcism. It definitely did not translate to 'You breed with the mouth of a goat', if the demon's reaction was anything to go by.

Dean thrashed, but Cas was still bracing him against the wall. The demon's true face was brought forth as it was being forced from the vessel, flickering in Cas' angel-oomphed eyesight. Seeing that hideous face on Dean. . . It reminded Cas, for a horrifying moment, of the Mark.

"I won't-" the demon gritted his teeth, sparing a glance in Sam's direction, "we won't stop until they are us."

"I know." That was exactly why Cas was going to kill Legion before he got the chance. His eyes glowed with unfettered power. He finished the exorcism; not even a second after the last word was spoken, Dean's mouth was forced open as the demon fled, black smoke pouring out. It funneled through the air before flying out of the room. Cas stepped back, taking a breath before removing the blade from Dean's neck, who promptly collapsed to his knees.

Sam, sluggish mind finally telling him to act, lurched forward, putting a tentative hand on Dean's shoulder. He was shaking slightly, breath ragged, and he was still holding a hand to his throat.

He was doubled over on the ground, forehead almost touching the floor, hands braced against the rough carpet. Sam realized he was saying something. Repeating the same two words over and over after each breath.

"Holy sh-"

"Dean? Hey- you're okay," Sam lightly smacked the side of his face, because his brother was acting catatonic, shocky, and Sam didn't like it. At all. Dean nodded, fisting a hand into the fabric of the shoulder of Sam's shirt. Sam slowly helped him stand, firmly gripping his arm, and he only let go when he was positive that Dean had stopped swaying.

"Perfect timing, Cas," Sam acknowledged trench-coated angel, whose eyebrows were pinched in concern at the interaction before him. Cas barely nodded.

"I heard your prayer," he finally forced his eyes off of Dean, making eye contact with Sam. "I see you found him," Cas said.

"Found who?" Sam asked, "What the hell was that?"

"Legion."

* * *

 **So? What do you guys think? Follow/Favorite/Review if you liked it. There's more incoming, say around this Wednesday-afternoon-ish.**


	2. Sigil

**Back again. Hiya.**

 **RECAP:**

" _I see you found him," Cas said._

" _Found who?" Sam asked, "What the hell was that?"_

" _Legion."_

* * *

CHAPTER 2: SIGIL

"We need to talk," Cas said.

"Yeah, no kidding," Sam scoffed. First things first: "So what's the deal with Kelly?"

"Still nothing," Cas deflated, "Are you injured?" he eyed Dean's bloodied collarbone and the bruises that had already started forming on his neck, answering the question for himself.

Dean didn't answer. Sam gave him a concerned look. "I think I got a concussion, but Dean-" Sam tapered off when Cas put two fingers to his head to heal him. Sam felt a grating deep inside him, where his ribs should be- it was unpleasant, but it passed in a second. He didn't think much more of it. Cas did the same for Dean, and Sam saw that the tattoo was restored as well.

The bit of haze that had been fluttering in Sam's head after his unfortunate acquaintance with the wall disappeared enough for him to realize that the room they were standing in was entirely unfamiliar.

Dean eyed the disgustingly old-lady-like floral wallpaper plastered on the walls.

"Jeez, Cas, we really need to get you some new digs," Dean flicked a frilly window curtain, wrinkling his nose at the smell of mothballs.

"I hadn't originally planned on staying long," Cas followed Dean's gaze, "What's wrong with it?"

Dean chuckled- Sam shot him a look, and he quickly shut up, steeling his expression. "Nothing, man."

Cas gave him one last puzzled look before answering Sam's previous question.

"The trail went cold a few towns back. I was going to move on, find a different tactic, when I noticed signs of a demon nearby."

They could sense this was going to be a long explanation, especially if Cas, straight-to-the-point Cas, felt the need to give a preamble. Sam pulled up a chair. Dean followed suit.

Sam leaned forward, twining his fingers together. "How long ago did you notice the signs?"

"Four days ago. I thought that they must have been the result of several demons because they were on such a large scale, but," he shrugged as if conceding a point, "technically it is several demons..." he added as an afterthought.

"Then, looking back, I saw that every place I had tracked Dagon to was sporting similar signs. I'm-," Cas squinted, "Surprised I didn't notice sooner."

"Why didn't you tell us? We could have helped you," Dean said. They didn't get him a phone for nothing.

Cas quirked an eyebrow. Because they almost got themselves killed after 5 minutes of involvement, that's why- but when weren't they facing death?

"Okay," Dean got the message, and he raised a hand to wave off further unspoken arguments, "Point taken. But we're not getting out of this now. What do we know about him?"

"Legion is a protector of the Princes of Hell. Their right hand man above the Knights of Hell. He's an army in himself."

"Why has he suddenly made an appearance now? Why have we never heard of him?"

"I would think it's because we killed Ramiel," Cas said testily. Dean raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with Sam, but didn't say anything. Cas continued, "They're fairly undocumented due to the fact that they only come to power when a Prince of Hell is killed. This one was probably summoned to protect Dagon. That's the only explanation I could think of as to why it would coincidentally appear near where she was."

Ramiel. Great. Dean had hoped he'd never have to hear that name again: he didn't care that the guy was dead, he'd kill him a thousand times over for what he did to Cas. He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Well that's just fantastic," he stood up, and Cas followed his motion. He checked his watch, noticing how late it was getting.

"Me and Sam are gonna go get a room before it gets too late, but we'll meet up with you in the morning."

Cas cocked his head. "Why don't you just stay here?"

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Cas cut him off before he could get a word in.

"You were just possessed by a demon, one that has now been alerted to all of our presences and may very well be after you. It's wisest we stay together."

Sam made a noise of validation in the back of his throat. Dean leveled a pointed glare at him before turning back to Cas.

"Fine. But I get first shower."

* * *

Dean wiped the fog off the mirror. He forced himself to look at his eyes- which were green.

Of course he was used to near death experiences. That came with the job. But he'd never had to worry about possession, about being a demon, not when he had a tattoo that specifically warded against that. Except for when he had the Mark. . . But that didn't count. That technically _was_ him, and he hadn't been possessed.

It didn't matter. It wouldn't happen again. He ran a finger over the tattoo below his collarbone- smooth. Complete. Whole.

But it could happen again. . .

No. He couldn't think like that. This was just another baddie to stop, no different than Amara or Ramiel or Lucifer or any of the other hundreds they'd beat. And Cas was here, he had their backs. The team was together. And while Dean didn't want Cas to be anywhere near anything resembling a Prince of Hell after what happened in that barnhouse, he was here. There was nothing he could do about it but watch both their backs and Sam's. He forced himself to look away from his tattoo, letting the mirror fog up again as he got dressed.

He exited the bathroom, which was billowing steam behind him as he toweled his hair dry. Sam was out already, spread out and snoring on one of the beds. Dean made his way over to the other one, completely ready to just flop down and forget about life for a while.

"Hello, Dean," a hushed voice came from somewhere near the door.

"Shi-!" Dean jumped, reaching for a gun that wasn't there, just now seeing Cas sitting at the table with a laptop in front of him. He immediately glanced at Sam, who just rolled over in his sleep. _Hunter instincts my ass,_ he thought.

Cas looked up in concern, owlish eyes peering up at him in the half-light of the room. His voice was low in consideration of the room's other occupant.

"I require assistance," he turned back to the laptop, squinting at it. He pecked at the keyboard a few times, then started hitting the screen. Dean crossed the room, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

"Whoa- dude, that's not gonna fix anything," Dean crouched down next to him to look at the screen. Somehow Cas had opened 50 million popups with a few deft maneuvers. Dean couldn't even tell what his original goal was. "What're you trying to do?"

"I just assumed that would make it work. I've seen you do it," Cas shrugged, "Sam let me borrow his laptop so I could do research."

Dean closed the pop ups. There were only two tabs open. "On Netflix?"

"That was earlier." Cas was able to navigate to the other tab, which had 'cattle mutilations near Selma, Missouri' typed into the search engine.

"How do I find the answers?" Cas gestured helplessly to the screen. Dean was trying to smother his laughter, but Cas noticed.

He rolled his head back, suddenly looking tired. "Please, Dean, I don't-"

"You just hit enter." Dean did so, and the entire page filled up with hits.

Cas went straight, leaning in closer to the laptop. That was- easier than expected. He'd been trying for the past 15 minutes.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas looked up.

"Whatever," Dean waved a hand in dismissal, "Don't mention it." Maybe they should get him a laptop, too. After they gave him his own smartphone, Dean realized that Cas, despite all his quirks, learned fairly quickly.

"Oh, and Dean?"

Dean stopped, halfway to semi-but-not-at-all peaceful sleep, fully expecting Cas to ask for technical help again. Don't get him wrong, it was refreshing being the teacher rather than the taught for once, but Dean was just too jumbled for this right now.

Cas was still looking at the laptop, clicking through websites. The blue light from the screen cast a dull glow on Cas, making the tips of his jet-black hair look like they were made of light. "Your tattoo is fully restored. You don't need to worry."

Dean froze. How had Cas known that Dean was even thinking about it? Was he- was he watching him? Dean suddenly felt a little uneasy- Cas still didn't have a grasp on social norms- but he just as quickly shook off the feeling. "It could happen again," he said stonily.

"No," Cas clicked on another link and started scrolling through, "I added the sigil to the warding on your ribcage."

All Dean could see was the back of Cas' head, nose still buried in the laptop. He didn't seem to have noticed Dean's abrupt change in attitude, but Dean was grateful. That was. . . unexpected.

"Thank you, Cas," Dean said sincerely.

"Mhmm," Cas grunted noncommittally.

Dean threw one last look at him before crawling into bed. Half of the room was lit up in a faint blue glow from the laptop, casting elongated shadows across the floor. Dean had thought he wouldn't be able to fall asleep with Cas there, but he was out like a light. There was an angel watching over him, and despite everything he slept better than he had in a long time.

* * *

Sam woke up first. Cas was still sitting at the table in front of the closed blinds of the window, focused on the laptop, which was now plugged into a charger. Sam was surprised that he was able to use it after the incredibly brief crash-course he gave him.

Cas heard him shambling along, going through his morning routine.

"Hey Cas. Find anything?"

Cas huffed out a sigh, closing the laptop. "Nothing that I didn't already know."

Sam hummed thoughtfully. "We might have some books on him in the Men of Letters archive. I got it digitized."

"That sounds. . ."

"Helpful?" Sam supplied.

"Complicated."

The corner of Sam's mouth tugged up in a smirk, but before he could respond Dean interrupted.

"If I have to see this wallpaper for one more second I'm gonna puke," Dean threw the covers back, sauntering towards them as he forcefully rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Sleeping beauty has awoken," Sam joked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Dean made a face at Sam as he walked past them to the bathroom. Sam heard the faucet turn on, and the sounds of him brushing his teeth.

"I don't understand," Cas cocked his head, which was something Sam hadn't seen in ages. His gaze shifted from the closed door to Sam with a quizzical look. "What is wrong with the wallpaper?"

"Absolutely nothing, Cas. Dean's just in a mood." Which was true enough, but when was Dean not in a mood? Cas hummed as if in agreement.

"So how have you been, Cas?" Sam asked. He hadn't seen him in weeks- they still heard from him every other day when he called to check in with them, but it was nice to hear his actual voice.

Cas shrugged. "Fine. I'll be better once we find Kelly and Dagon. What about you and Dean?"

"We-" Sam was cut off when Dean came out of the bathroom, running a hand through his hair to style it.

"You guys ready to go?"

* * *

Confinement. Cars. Cas felt squished, despite the fact that he had the entire backseat to himself. Luckily the ride was short- there were only two breakfast places to choose from, and since only one of them had pie there was really no choice at all.

Mel's Diner. A neon sign, which was probably lit up festively at night, winked dully in the light of day. Cas followed the Winchester's through the door, which dinged a bell in annunciation of their entrance.

They'd just taken their seats at a booth when a perky blonde woman appeared to take their order. The brothers ordered their breakfasts and three coffees. The waitress jotted their orders on a notepad and whisked away with a cheery smile.

Dean followed her movement with his eyes. Sam cleared his throat, and when that didn't get his attention he kicked his foot.

Dean gave himself a little shake before turning back to Cas. "So," he folded his hands, leaning forwards conspiratorially.

"I didn't find anything of import last night, but he'll show himself soon enough."

"Well the good news is, we find him, we find Kelly and Dagon," Sam offered.

Dean nodded, "If Legion is following her around like a little man-demon-puppy."

Sam scoffed before turning back to Cas. "I realized why the name sounded so familiar. Is this the same Legion from the bible?"

Cas gave Sam a look, momentarily taken aback. He was pleased to hear that at least one of the Winchesters had it in them to get in touch with Scripture. Mary and Dean were much too stubborn.

"Yes. I'm surprised that you-"

"Podcasts," Sam interrupted, seeing the incredulous look of mild disgust that Dean was giving him. The look deepened at Sam's explanation, and he rolled his eyes, putting a hand up at Dean to shut him up.

"Look, doesn't matter. So this Legion- he wasn't- isn't- just one demon?"

"It's a multitude. All possessing the same host."

"I didn't even know that was possible," Dean said, "How many are we talkin' here?"

"A reasonable enough amount for him to be considered his own army. Hundreds. Maybe thousands." The waitress reappeared with their coffees. "And he was only destroyed- or thought to be destroyed- when Jesus exorcised him."

Dean spluttered on his coffee, setting it to the table harshly.

"Je- Jesus exorcised it?"

Cas nodded.

"Like, Jesus, Jesus? The Jesus?" Jesus of Nazareth, Demon Hunter. Had a nice ring to it.

"Yes, Dean," Cas glanced at Sam, not understanding Dean's reaction, "Jesus."

"Well, that's friggin great. We need a god to get rid of it."

Cas rolled his shoulder. Odds were not looking in their favour: they never were. But they made it this far. "In the end, Legion is just a demon. An extremely powerful hive mind demon. Every person he kills, every deal he makes, every soul he damns is one more demon bonded to him," Cas explained.

"And crossroads demons are the only ones that can make deals. That explains the red eyes," Sam pointed out.

"Red eyes?" Cas asked.

"When he was talking, giving us his whole villain spiel, his eyes started flickering. Showing us all the dem-" Dean stopped mid-sentence when the waitress reappeared to clear a neighboring table. She looked up, and he caught her eye long enough to wink. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah but, Dean, didn't you see his face? It didn't seem like it was on purpose. It looked like he was having trouble controlling them all."

"It could be that his host was disintegrating. All that power- it requires a very strong vessel, strong enough that Legion rarely uses only one vessel to contain it. Which means that he'll be finding a new one."

"So we're back to square one," Sam leaned back.

"Great," Dean leaned back in the booth, "And now the thing's on a killing spree, and practically unkillable, apparently. What do we do?"

How should he know? Cas looked down at the steaming brown liquid in his cup- he wished caffeine affected him. That's what he'd been trying to figure out before they came. Now they really needed to kill Legion before it came after the Winchesters again. Demons tended to hold a grudge.

"He can be killed using conventional methods, just on a larger scale."

"Larger scale being-?"

"Larger than whatever you're thinking."

"How are we going to find it? Are there any other signs that he'd be in the area?" Sam asked.

"And while we're at it, what are we going to do if we find it and it's chumming it up with Dagon? We can't take on both at the same time."

"I don't know!" Cas threw his hands up helplessly.

Both Winchesters looked up in surprise at his outburst. Sam raised an eyebrow.

Cas quickly looked down. Where had that come from? "Sorry. I'm just stressed."

Dean made a noise in the back of his throat and Sam shot him a look.

"We'll figure it out, Cas. We always do," Sam looked at Cas until he reluctantly nodded.

"And we know he's not completely invulnerable. We were able to get rid of one piece of him," Sam said, sneaking a furtive glance at Dean, "that's a start."

"That was only because he put one demon in him. If he wanted to he could have switched host bodies and dumped his entire self in Dean."

"Oh, I feel so lucky," Dean said sarcastically.

"You should, Dean," Cas said measuredly, his frustration still not completely dissipated, "You could have died."

Sam deftly changed the direction this conversation was going. "Anything else you can tell us about him, Cas?"

Cas shrugged, shaking his head. Legion wasn't like a Prince of Hell, or even a Knight. He only appeared when a Prince was killed. No one knew much of anything about him.

"Game plan?" Dean asked.

"No repeats of last night?" Sam offered.

Dean shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. He looked up over the rim of his cup as a cluster of people entered, taking seats two booths away. "Fair enough."

* * *

The waitress brought them their food a few minutes later. Cas stiffened as soon as she approached their booth, eyes alternating between glancing shiftily at her and boring a hole in Dean's shoulder.

The waitress left.

"Cas? Hey, what's wrong?"

Cas waited until she was well away attending to other customers before answering.

"She's a demon," he said under his breath, feeling the cool metal of the hilt of his angel blade as it slid into his palm.

"Dammit," Dean hissed under his breath. Why was it always the cute ones? He looked longingly at his stack of pancakes- guess he wouldn't be eating those- before reaching for his gun. Sam grabbed his elbow to stop him.

"Not here," he nodded towards the other customers sitting in front of them, "too many witnesses."

Cas turned around in his seat, surveying the room and the people behind him that Sam had just pointed out. He quickly turned back around, sucking in a breath as he tightened his grip on his angel blade.

"Sam. They're all demons."

* * *

 **Another chapter finished. Reviews and critique are appreciated.**


	3. Blade and a Sharp Place

**A/N: Oops. I meant to post this sooner, but I guess with AP and SAT tests all in one week I got a little busy. . . anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it.**

 ** _RECAP:_**

 _Sam grabbed his elbow to stop him._

 _"Not here," he nodded towards the other customers sitting in front of them, "too many witnesses."_

 _Cas turned around in his seat, surveying the room and the people behind him that Sam had just pointed out. He quickly turned back around, sucking in a breath as he tightened his grip on his angel blade._

 _"Sam. They're all demons."_

* * *

CHAPTER 3: BLADE AND A SHARP PLACE

Cas slid his angel blade out from his sleeve, keeping it under the table. Sam and Dean did the same with their weapons. They had to be smart about this. They couldn't just start-

"Problem, gentlemen?" The waitress reappeared at their table. She blinked, and her eyes turned ink black. Suddenly her sweet smile made Dean's stomach do flips, and not the cute kind. The patrons that had been sitting behind Cas suddenly stood, making their way towards the exits. They stood in front of it, blades ready. The waitress- Kathy, her name tag said, not that it mattered- stepped back, giving them room to stand from the booth.

Cas stood, protectively putting himself between the demon and the Winchesters. He heard Sam reciting an exorcism behind him. The woman tutted.

"I've learned my lesson about you two. You should learn yours by keeping your mouth shut."

"Legion," Cas whispered, recognizing the face of the demon before him. Sam and Dean stiffened behind him.

The door in the back of the diner opened again, and more demons entered. There were 8 now, excluding the waitress.

"I always knew there'd come a day when this would be handy," she procured an angel blade, twirling it showily in her fingers. The tension was building like a rubber band slowly being pulled.

Then it snapped.

She leapt for Cas, who shoved her off, plunging his blade into her shoulder. She was sent sprawling across the table, knocking off ketchup bottles and napkin holders as she went. As she was getting up, the demons who had been standing near the doors came at them. Two went on each Winchester, and a fifth came at Cas.

Cas jumped behind one of them, putting a hand over her mouth to keep her from smoking out. A bright blue glow emanated from her eyes before she sagged in his grip, eyes smoking.

Sam and Dean were still fighting their demons- but the demons weren't fighting back. Not like they could have been. They danced back every time one of the Winchesters lunged. Finally one of them got Dean in a chokehold, and Sam was struggling to fight off the other 5- he'd already killed two with the gun before it was kicked away.

Cas approached them, putting a hand on two of the demons backing Sam into a corner. They convulsed for a second, glowing, before they dropped to the ground. Sam nodded towards Dean- he could handle the rest.

The demon holding Dean growled at him, tightening his chokehold. Cas poofed behind him, but opted to stab this one instead. Dean stepped back and was about to say a word of thanks when he froze, eyes fixed on something over Cas' shoulder.

"Cas!" He hadn't seen the waitress get up from the mess of fallen tables, hadn't bothered to check to see if she was down for the count after delivering a blow that would have killed any normal demon.

But apparently she wasn't dead.

"You just keep getting in the way!" she shrieked. Cas barely had time to whirl around before she plunged the blade into his side. She snarled, face inches from his, and torqued her wrist, digging the blade deeper.

Cas looked down in surprise, clutching at the blossoming red blooming across his trench coat. He could hear Dean shouting in the room that suddenly seemed silent, eyes wide on the offender protruding from between Cas' ribs. It was hilt-deep in his abdomen; he could faintly make out a trail of grace seeping out from the hole, but even as he watched it was starting to dwindle. Or maybe that was just him- even now he could see darkness eating away at the edges of his vision. . .

The waitress jerked. She fell sideways, tugging the blade out an inch or so in the process, creating a disgusting squelch. Cas staggered, gritting his teeth against the wave of nausea rolling through him. He looked up to see Dean standing a few feet behind where the waitress had been. The last two demons were on the ground. Dean stowed away the gun he'd recovered and rushed over to Cas just as he started falling. He helped ease him down to the floor.

"Cas?"

Sam staggered over, panting from exertion. He wiped his blade on the waitress' apron as he went, leaving a smear of red on the otherwise pristine white fabric. His eyes widened as he saw what was going on, and his steps quickened with renewed urgency.

Cas felt his eyes start to drift closed, but they shot back open when he felt something hit his cheek. "Hey, man, you're okay," Dean was tapping the side of his face. The one look he exchanged with Sam told him that no, he wasn't okay, wasn't even close to okay.

Dean was speaking in hushed tones to Sam- Cas couldn't make out the words over the roaring of blood in his ears. He tried to read his lips, but nothing he was hearing was making any sense. But perhaps Cas wasn't in the best state of mind to be judging the Winchesters' plan.

Because they had one, of course. A plan.

Right?

* * *

Back to the motel. That made much more sense than whatever gibberish Cas had thought Dean said.

"Can angels bleed out?" Dean asked. He threw a look towards the backseat, where Sam was hunched over, pressing both hands to the flesh around the blade. Blood seeped through the towel they'd lain down, right onto the polished leather.

Dean was gonna be pissed. But Sam didn't have the heart to tell him yet.

"I don't know," Sam pressed a hand under Cas' jaw, heart hammering until he found Cas' pulse, harsh and irregular. Let's not find out."

Dean nodded. Luckily the diner was only a short distance from their motel room- they would have just stayed there to patch Cas up, seeing as how they'd killed all the occupants, but- well, who knew if Legion would send more? It was safer this way. Hopefully.

The tires squealed as Dean brought the car to a quick stop, not even bothering to park properly. Cas made a pained noise in the backseat. Right. There was a blade stuck in his gut. No doing wheelies.

He opened the back door for Sam, who'd already gathered up Cas in his arms bridal style. Dean cast one last glance outside, but it was silent. Nothing was coming for them- not yet, anyway. He hurried up the steps to open the motel room door for Sam, who darted inside and put Cas on one of the beds.

Cas woke up somewhere in the midst of the bustle, and one of them (Dean, he thought) barked at him to keep pressing on the wound, which he did. It was incredibly difficult to disobey a Winchester.

Sam and Dean worked together in perfect unison- as they typically did- setting out the necessary items for wound dressing. A bowl of water, questionable off-white motel towels, bandages, a sewing kit and copious amounts of whiskey. The whiskey was for any party which felt so inclined. Dean, mostly.

They'd kept the blade in to keep Cas from bleeding out even more, and it was buried almost hilt-deep. First order of business- take that pig sticker out. Yeah. Easier said than done.

"Can you-?" Dean motioned for Sam to keep pressure around the blade. "Got it," Sam said, adjusting his hands so Dean would have easier access to the blade.

Dean started pulling out the blade, wincing with the squelch it gave. Cas' eyes fluttered open, and they promptly widened. His hand shot up to grab Dean's arm.

"No-"

"Hey, Cas, it's us," Dean stopped the motion, trying to catch Cas' eye.

Cas blinked, still fighting his disorientation and trying to figure out just _how_ he ended up here, on Dean's motel bed, rather than on the floor of that diner.

"Sorry to do this, man, but we gotta get you fixed up," Dean hesitated for only a second before he yanked out the blade in one swift move, tossing it to the ground. Cas lurched, but Sam kept him held down. More blood bubbled up, and the blue glow of grace played a stark contrast against the bright vermillion.

Not good.

Dean got part of Cas' shirt unbuttoned, helping him take off all his layers so Sam could get at the wound better. He threw the bloodied clothes on the bedpost. Sam packed the wound with a towel.

"Jeez, Cas," now that the layers were off, Dean saw just how bad it was. He handed another towel to Sam.

Cas glanced down warily. "I've- had worse," he grunted, chest heaving. He let his head fall back on the pillows, closing his eyes.

No kidding. Dean exchanged a look with Sam. This was not Cas' lucky side at all- it was almost the same place where Ramiel had stabbed him. No wonder he'd been so freaked out a few seconds earlier. At least he was breathing semi-normally now- although Sam didn't know if that was a good thing, seeing as how Cas normally didn't need to breathe.

"Do you think you can heal it? Or do you need stitches?"

"It- it'll take a few hours, but-", Cas seemed to change his mind mid-sentence. "Yes. Stitches might- might speed it up."

"I think I got most of the bleeding to stop," Sam said, lifting the reddened towel to view the wound. It was angry and red, but it had stopped bleeding for the most part. Grace still seeped out of it, floating in the air before dissipating.

"Should I be worried?" Dean pointed at it.

Cas looked down hazily, brows pinched.

"I don't-" he tilted his head, not quite knowing the answer himself. "I just need rest. I'll be fine."

Sam cast a skeptical look at Dean, who shrugged.

"Okay, seamstress," he handed Sam the suture kit, wincing internally as he realized that they probably didn't have anything strong enough to knock Cas out for a few hours. "Start sewing."

 **So when I wrote 'Sam and Dean were still fighting their demons' I couldn't help but snicker because… well, for obvious reasons. I'm funny. Laugh. Please? I'll give you a cookie.**


	4. Little Toy Soldier

**Spoliers (just in this A/N, not in the actual fic. You can skip straight to that if you want). Let's just act like that season finale didn't happen. If Misha doesn't come back, I'm boycotting the show- or at least I'll try. Not just because they killed off my favorite character (I swear) but because it just seemed- weak? They definitely could have strengthened the plot, especially because Cas' death was super anti-climactic. They have regular minor-character/crony deaths, where they're just stabbed and they die, and then you have a Winchester death, where they're still alive for the touchy-feely moment- and then you had Cas' death. Which was just one of those minor-character-immediate-deaths.**

 **Anyway. Sorry, I had to vent. Just as a quick reminder, in this fic Cas is (alive) still looking for Dagon and Kelly and has only been missing for a few days, and the Colt is still in working order.**

 **Also, almost forgot, thank you sooo much to Guest and Winchester 1386 for reviewing- I appreciate it a lot, and I hope you guys like the chapters to come.**

 _ **RECAP:**_

 _"It- it'll take a few hours, but-", Cas seemed to change his mind mid-sentence. "Yes. Stitches might- might speed it up."_

 _"I think I got most of the bleeding to stop," Sam said, lifting the reddened towel to view the wound. It was angry and red, but it had stopped bleeding for the most part. Grace still seeped out of it, floating in the air before dissipating._

 _"Should I be worried?" Dean pointed at it._

 _Cas looked down hazily, brows pinched._

 _"I don't-" he tilted his head, not quite knowing the answer himself. "I just need rest. I'll be fine."_

 _Sam cast a skeptical look at Dean, who shrugged._

 _"Okay, seamstress," he handed Sam the suture kit, wincing internally as he realized that they probably didn't have anything strong enough to knock Cas out for a few hours. "Start sewing."_

 **CHAPTER 4: LITTLE TOY SOLDIER**

"C'mon, don't die on me," Dean pleaded, "Not now. You've been such a trooper, I know, but just- hang in there-" Dean practically jumped over the chair, desperately grabbing for the life-saving device.

"Dude," Sam scoffed, walking over from where he'd been checking on Cas' wound, "Are you talking to the laptop?" He came to stand at Dean's shoulder.

"Shaddup, Sam," Dean plugged in the charger just in time, "I just got a hit on the news," he flicked the screen, "Cattle mutilations. A few towns over."

"That's great, but," Sam tipped his head back to where Cas was lying on the bed, "We can't really go anywhere with Cas like this."

"I'm _fine_ ," Cas insisted. He started to sit up, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Sam, with his back turned to him, rolled his eyes. Cas had an uncanny knack for downplaying injuries, no doubt a habit he'd picked up from the Winchesters.

"No you're not fine, Cas, you just got stabbed," Sam argued.

Dean stood, helping Cas get back into bed. "Now sit down and shuddup." Cas grumbled in complaint, holding a tentative hand to his side.

That was a fluke. He'd been caught off guard. It wouldn't happen again. He'd just been so on edge from the endless hunt for Lucifer's child. . . He needed to stay sharp. "It won't be much longer. It's almost-" Cas lifted the edge of the bandage. A small bit of his grace floated in the air, and he dejectedly taped it back down, rolling his eyes in aggravation.

"No rush. Take your time," Sam said. Cas lowered an annoyed look at him- and when did he learn to do _that_ so well?- before decidedly shaking his head, shifting slightly so he was sitting up more.

"I know you two want to find him," he said reluctantly, "You're not going alone," his gaze shifted, almost as if in challenge, to Dean.

"We're not leaving you," Dean scoffed, "We're doing this together."

Cas squinted at him, that familiar wrinkle popping up between his eyebrows. "Good."

"Hey, Dean, come help me get our stuff together," Sam nodded towards the door. Dean raised an eyebrow. They lived out of their bags- everything was already together.

"Where-" Cas sat up, a look of panic flitting across his features before he shoved it down, "Where are you going?"

Dean stood, tossing the keys on the nightstand table.

"Chill, man, we're not going anywhere." Cas relaxed fractionally, eyeing the keys on the table.

Dean followed Sam out the door. But he didn't head for the car- instead he walked a few steps down the short rickety porch of the motel, out of view of the window.

Dean didn't say anything for a moment, waiting for Sam to explain himself.

"We need help," Sam turned back around to face Dean, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wooden railing.

Dean bristled. He was fairly sure he knew what Sam meant by "help".

"Mom's with Ketch working her own case-"

"I think this is a little more important than a few vampires."

Dean threw his arms wide in a helpless gesture. "So what, Sam? We go crawling back to them? No way. We don't need help. We've got the colt now, we have a plan-"

Sam scoffed, poised to make a rebuttal, but Dean interrupted him.

"Look, you've," he lowered his voice, glancing furtively at the door as if expecting Cas to be standing in the doorway, "you've seen the way Ketch looks at Cas."

Sam looked down. Dean's pride, combined with his fierce-to-a-fault protectiveness of friends and family, was _not_ a force that anyone should go in front of.

Dean continued. "Like he's- an animal, or something. Less than that. If we go up against Legion, Cas is just another expendable to them. And he's already hurt as it is."

Sam chewed his lip, looking towards the door.

"Fine. No Men of Letters."

* * *

By around noon, grace stopped seeping out of the bandage. By evening, the wound was half healed, and Cas was able to stand and move without feeling like he'd keel over. He found his dress shirt, jacket and trench coat hanging on the bedpost and used his grace to fix the holes in them.

"You're good?" Sam said doubtfully.

Cas nodded, finishing the last button.

"Great," Dean clapped his hands together, looking at the walls, "I was getting really sick of this motel."

 **JEFFERSON COUNTY, MISSOURI**

As Sam was checking up on the location of the newest demon appearance, the local news updated. According to the report, some guy started hacking people up at a house party before collapsing, apparently from spontaneous combustion. He gave Dean the new directions, then called the local police station to tell them that FBI agents Fleetwood and Young were on their way, along with their partner-in-training Buckingham. Sam spoke with him for a bit longer, getting the rest of the information, before hanging up with a sigh.

He tapped his finger on the phone impatiently as he thought. "Now we just have the problem of how to kill it," Sam said.

"Answer's in the back trunk."

Sam looked confused for a moment, but he promptly figured it out. "Oh my g-", Sam cut himself off, huffing in annoyance. Dean, meanwhile, knowingly tapped the side of his head.

"Smarter, not harder, Sammy," he smirked. Sam glared at him for using his own words against him. Cas, meanwhile, was as confused as a chameleon in a bag of skittles.

"What's in the back trunk?"

"The colt," Dean answered.

"The _colt_?" Cas repeated. The gun? He couldn't have heard that right, "When did that happen?"

"Long story," Dean waved his hand, "An old friend of Sam's returned it to us." There was a hidden note in Dean's voice when he mentioned this friend that Sam seemed to pick up on.

"That's one less thing to worry about," Cas said.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the police station.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges- Cas was looking around the station, half-expecting to find Legion standing near the coffee machine. Dean elbowed him, and he quickly held up the badge that Sam and Dean had made him, making sure it was right side up this time.

They were directed towards the morgue. They met the coroner that Sam had spoken to on the phone, an old guy with

"I'm Fleetwood, this is Young, and this is Buckingham," Dean said, skipping straight to the introductions.

"Feds got here quickly."

"We run on efficiency."

The man eyed them for a moment before turning around, motioning for them to follow him down the fluorescent-lit hallway. He pushed a door open- the morgue- and motioned inside to the body laid out on the slab.

"Thank you," Sam said, signalling that the man could leave.

He nodded. "Sorry about the smell. No amount of bleach can smother it," he turned back to the door, "I'll be in my office if you need me."

Cas and Dean went on one side, Sam on the other. Sam scrunched his nose, both at the sight and the smell: every visible part of the man's skin was covered in burns. The room reeked of sulfur.

"Spontaneous combustion?" Dean said dubiously.

"Or possession gone wrong." Sam lifted a corner of the sheet covering the man's body, only to see that the burns continued further down.

"And he's skipped town. Again."

"We don't know that for sure," Cas said.

"Well, we know it has a creepy fetish with me and Sam. For some reason, it doesn't want us dead," Dean turned to Sam. Cas' eyes widened as he realized what he was implying.

"You are _not_ going to suggest-"

"You got a better idea?", Dean interjected, spreading his arms, "I'd be happy to hear it."

"We can check out the scene. See if anyone saw anything-", Cas looked at Sam for backup.

"By the time we get any solid information, Legion might already be gone," Sam said.

How were they even _considering_ this? The two times they'd run into it, it had possessed Dean and almost killed Cas himself, and it hadn't even been at full power.

"What about the plan? 'No repeats of last night'?", Cas recalled, "He's already proven to be more powerful than-"

"We have the Colt now," Dean reminded him.

Cas glanced at both of them, mouth slightly hanging open as he tried to come up with an alternative. He could tell they weren't going to back down on this. Typical Winchester stubbornness.

"Fine."

They were going to use the Winchesters as bait.

 **So in case you didn't notice, Fleetwood and Buckingham are members of Fleetwood Mac and yes, they are a couple. Do with that information what you wish.**


	5. Ready Aim Fire

**Hey guys, back again for another chapter. This title's based off a song by Imagine Dragons of the same name. I hope you guys enjoy this one, and don't forget to follow/favorite/review if you like it- it fuels my writing. Thanks for reading**

 ** _RECAP:_**

 _How were they even considering this? The two times they'd run into it, it had possessed Dean and almost killed Cas himself, and it hadn't even been at full power._

 _"What about the plan? 'No repeats of last night'?", Cas recalled, "He's already proven to be more powerful than-"_

 _"We have the Colt now," Dean reminded him._

 _Cas glanced at both of them, mouth slightly hanging open as he tried to come up with an alternative. He could tell they weren't going to back down on this. Typical Winchester stubbornness._

 _"Fine."_

 _They were going to use the Winchesters as bait._

CHAPTER 5: READY AIM FIRE

Cas still didn't like this idea. But the three most stubborn people in the world (not counting Mary, of course) were working together, so one of them had to concede.

Cas didn't want it to be him, but. . . he had no alternatives. Hopefully, if they were lucky (which they so rarely were) they could kill two birds with one stone.

Or rather, two powerful demons with one rune-worked gun.

"How do we find just one? That's like- like trying to find the hay in a needlestack," Sam said.

Dean shook his head, revving the car before peeling out.

"Summoning spell?" Sam suggested.

"We need to find a place to do it."

The Winchester's had come up with worse plans- Castiel, too- and Cas supposed they'd been caught off guard the first two times. They'd be prepared now. They had the inklings of a plan, which was more than they normally worked with.

They barely got a few yards down the road before they got an unexpected passenger. Cas jerked in surprise at the man that materialized right next to him, harshly jabbing his elbow into the door in the process.

"Heard you were looking for me." When the unfamiliar voice piped up from the backseat, Dean jerked the wheel, almost sending the car into a stop sign before screeching past said stop sign. He whipped around to face the newcomer.

"Let me just tell you, this is extremely," the demon rolled his head back, looking for a good description, "uncomfortable," he looked down at his fingers, flexing them in a fist, just as a waft of acrid smoke drifted up.

His neck was covered in burns, blooming up one side of his face- although even that wasn't as bad as the burns on the man at the morgue.

Sam recovered from his momentary shock, scrabbled for something in the glove compartment before promptly turning back around, gun in hand. Dean's eyes kept flicking from the road to the rearview mirror, then to the backseat.

"I'm beginning to think I'm not welcome here," the demon frowned sarcastically, sparing a glance towards Castiel, who was already holding his angel blade.

"Hmph," the demon crossed his arms, "Too bad you're not dead."

Cas pinned his arm protectively against his side, which was now throbbing from his sudden movement.

Sam cocked the gun, preparing to shoot, but Cas held a hand up to stop him.

"This is just a part of him." A soul bonded to Legion- several, actually, now that Cas was looking, but not thousands. Not deadly- yet. Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white.

"Dean. Still nervous from the last time I was inside you?" he winked.

Sam's finger tightened on the trigger.

Cas put his hand on the barrel of the gun, forcing Sam to point it towards the floor. "Every part of Legion is connected to the same vessel. He can split himself up among several, but they're all connected to the same one," he explained, never taking his eyes off of the demon sitting next to him.

"We find one, we find the hive mind."

"Exactly," Cas said, "So- don't kill him." As much as he hated that idea, it was their best chance at finding the rest of Legion.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine," he cocked the gun, aiming it at the demon's thigh.

"This won't kill you. But it'll hurt like a bitch unless you start talking."

After several tense minutes Dean found somewhere to pull over at an abandoned bridge. Sam got out, coming around the side to haul Legion out of the car.

"How did you find us?" He slammed the demon against the barricade separating the road from the rushing water below. The demon winced as it was crushed against the concrete slab, sparing a glance at the rushing water below.

"We have eyes everywhere," Legion glanced sideways, further up the road, almost as if he was expecting someone. A chill ran down Sam's spine- Legion could possess the entire town if he wanted to. He had that kind of power.

"How many are in there?" Sam asked, nodding towards the demon.

"Fifteen. Wait!" The man raised a finger, "Sixteen. I forgot to count myself."

Okay. So it'd be more difficult to kill, but not impossible.

"Where are the rest?" Cas demanded.

"Oh, you know," he shrugged, finally casting a lazy glance at Cas, "Everywhere."

Sam nodded to Dean, who went to the trunk of the Impala.

"What-" the demon tried to look around Sam, but Sam angled himself so he couldn't see what Dean was doing.

"What is he doing?" The demon's voice took on a tint of worry. Sam smirked mirthlessly.

Dean came back around to stand next to Sam.

The colt. And a pair of sigiled handcuffs, which he handed off to Sam.

Dean stared him down as he loaded each of the special bullets.

"Okay, boys, let's just calm down here-" the demon lifted his hands in a placating gesture. Sam quickly snapped the devil's trap handcuffs on the demon just as he opened his mouth to smoke out.

Dean leaned in until the demon's breath was hot in his face, shoving the gun to his forehead. " _Where_ ," he said, voice low.

"Doesn't matter how prepared you think you are," the demon snarled.

"Try me," Dean cocked the gun.

The demon rolled his eyes, shifting them nervously over the Latin carving on the barrel of the colt. _Non timebo mala._

"Go ahead. Waste a bullet. I was going to bring you to him anyway."

Sam scoffed. So, in trying to make a trap, they'd fallen into one. Why was he surprised?

Legion finally tore his eyes away from the gun to look to his side, where the road snaked up amongst the trees.

"He's just up there," he nodded, as much as he could with Dean Winchester pinning him, "Hiding out."

Dean eyed him for a second before turning to Cas.

"Is there any point in exorcising him?" he asked.

The demon's eyes widened, and he began thrashing wildly, hands twisting in their cuffs. Dean grabbed his collar with one hand, ramming him back into the concrete again. Cas eyed the burns on the man's face and neck that already seemed to have spread since they found him "No," he definitively shook his head, "The vessel is already dead."mk

"Good," Dean raised the colt, aiming it at the demon's forehead. The demon's eyes widened as he tried to squirm away, but Cas stepped forward, pinning it down. Dean's finger tightened on the trigger- there was a loud resounding crack, and the demon spasmed for a moment, electricity jumping from the hole in his head before slumping back against the barricade.

Dean tucked the gun back into his waistband. "That was for not asking for consent," he said before stalking back to the car.

Sam followed him. Cas stayed behind for a moment, watching as orange ochre continued to fizz weakly from the bullet wound. He turned back to the car after a few seconds.

"So much for the plan," Sam was saying. The car door creaked as Cas climbed into the back.

Dean started the car, but he stalled for a second, staring at the road ahead.

The back door swung shut. "Cas, you good?" Dean asked, still keeping his eyes on the road. The car hummed beneath them, ready to pounce at whatever monster lay on the road ahead.

"Yes," Cas answered immediately. He tentatively brought a hand to his wound- his fingers came back red. He looked down at the crimson blooming across his dress shirt, eyebrows temporarily scrunching before he simply nodded, adjusting his overcoat to cover it.

"I'm fine," he said, realizing that neither brother had seen him nod.

Dean nodded, taking a steadying breath before finally putting Baby into gear and maneuvering her back onto the main road.

They'd be walking straight into a trap. Dean knew that. They all knew that.

But they were the Winchesters. All three of them. And they weren't ones to back down from a fight.

"How many bullets do we have left?" Dean asked, nodding towards the colt.

Sam checked what was left in the gun. Recounted in the futile hope that there were somehow more than he'd first seen. "3," he replied. They had left more back at the bunker, but they couldn't go back for them: they were running out of time.

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. "My lucky number."

* * *

 **Again, thanks a bunch for reading my fellow fanpeople. It makes me really happy, even if just a handful of people like this fic. If you don't want to miss out on next chapter, follow or favorite so you can get updates.**


	6. Don't Miss

**FINALLY! School's over, so I'm definitely going to be updating this more often. I also have another fic that I started, it's a tag/fix-it to the season 12 finale. I'll try to post it sometime this weekend. I'm trying to hold myself over for this 4 month break from Supernatural, so of course I'm using my newfound freedom to write fanfic, because what else would I do with it? Don't forget to review! And sorry for the long recap, I couldn't figure out how far back I should do it, especially because I didn't want to miss the part with Cas and his stitches. Hope it's not too bothersome.**

 _ **RECAP**_ _:_

 _He looked down at the crimson blooming across his dress shirt, but simply nodded as he adjusted his overcoat to cover it._

 _"I'm fine," he said, realizing that neither brother had seen him nod._

 _Dean nodded, taking a steadying breath before finally putting Baby into gear and maneuvering her back onto the main road._

 _They'd be walking straight into a trap. Dean knew that. They all knew that._

 _But they were the Winchesters. All three of them. And they weren't ones to back down from a fight._

 _"How many bullets do we have left?" he asked, nodding towards the colt._

 _Sam checked what was left in the gun. Recounted in the futile hope that there were somehow more than he'd first seen. "3," he replied. They had left more back at the bunker, but they couldn't go back for them: they were running out of time._

 _Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. "My lucky number."_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6: DON'T MISS**

The next few minutes were tense. They kept their eyes peeled, looking for any buildings that Legion could be hiding out in. This area was mostly secluded woodland. There couldn't be very many options.

They were barely a mile down the road when Cas stiffened.

"Stop the car," he said, already opening the door as it screeched to a stop, tires squealing in protest.

Sam and Dean both scrambled out, joining Cas on his side of the car where he was staring out at the forest.

He knew what he'd felt. It was the same feeling he had when Ramiel had appeared, or any other powerful demon- his grace, recoiling against something, some evil that it was trained to hate.

Sam didn't need Cas' mojo to tell him that there was something in there. His skin crawled. They looked at the forest ahead for a moment. Remnants of light danced across the leaves, creating shades of yellows and bright green. The forest was quiet, waiting with bated breath.

"On foot?" Sam asked, meeting Dean's eyes. Dean shrugged, following the angel that had already began scrambling up the ridge of earth leading to the forest.

Cas was lagging behind, which was frustratingly annoying. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at his own weakness, wincing every time he twisted the wrong way or took too deep of a breath. Neither Winchester seemed to notice, which was in his favor. He suspected that he'd torn a stitch, but he didn't stop long enough to check. The Winchesters needed him, and he'd be damned again if he let them go after Legion alone.

Dean was a few yards ahead of him, going over a small hill. Cas watched as he suddenly got low to the ground, pulling Sam with him behind a fallen tree. He motioned for Cas to duck down.

"What-" Cas cut himself off when Dean shushed him, pointing at something downwind of the hill.

There was a small building, a house. It was stark white against the surrounding greenery, making it look slightly out of place. There were people outside stalking the entrance, no more than a dozen or so.

No. Not people. Demons. They were all wielding blades- even from this distance, Sam recognized the glinting celestial metal of an angel blade.

They _were_ walking straight into a trap. Surprise, surprise.

Dean looked at Cas expectantly, and he suddenly remembered that he was the only one that could recognize which demon was the one they were after.

"He's here," Cas nodded, seeming to grow more confident in his observation, "But-" He could feel the demonic power surging through the small valley, crashing and rolling like a tidal wave. Legion was much stronger than he'd been in biblical times.

"Okay, which one?" They needed to find the strongest one first- they could deal with the others later.

"I-" Cas' eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to answer. That was like telling him to find one drop of water in the ocean.

He finally shook his head. "It'll take time. I can't-" Cas squinted, trying to sparse out the demon. Maybe if he got closer. . .

One of the demons detached itself from the group and leisurely strolled closer to the tree trunk. The three simultaneously ducked down behind it. For a moment all they could hear was the crunch of dead weeds as the demon walked closer- but he didn't seem to have seen them. The steps faded away, and the demon kept walking, eventually looping back around behind the house.

Sam blew out a breath as soon as he was out of sight. "He must be inside."

"Please tell me you have a plan?" Cas asked. He regretted it before he even asked.

"Aim. Shoot," Dean checked the rounds in the colt again, which didn't take long at all considering they only had three bullets, "Don't miss."

"That seems overly simplistic," Cas observed, shifting uncomfortably in his crouched position.

Dean gave him a look before peering back around the fallen tree.

"That's how we do."

"You need to find the strongest one," Sam said, "The guy in charge. The other ones we can deal with," he said.

"What about Kelly? And Dagon?" Cas asked.

"Legion said he didn't want us dead. That he wanted to turn us-"

"And you're going to trust the word of a demon?"

"No," Dean corrected, " _We_ are. C'mon, man, you've had worse ideas."

"Guys," Sam shushed both of them. Cas' eyes went dark, sparking angrily, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. Still a touchy subject, but Dean was probably oblivious to Cas' change in attitude. Trusting a demon- Cas had trusted the devil himself, and that hadn't turned out too well. For anyone.

"We have more pressing problems right now," Sam said, nodding towards the house.

"Right," Dean rolled his eyes. Cas was still fuming silently, but he was biting his tongue for now. He shot a death glare at Dean before making a light scoff, and turned back to the demons guarding the front porch of the house.

"We've got three bullets. One for Legion, one for Dagon, and one for Kelly-" Dean almost choked on the third name- because no, he didn't want to shoot a pregnant woman, but he also didn't want to have to live under the threat of the world burning a second time around. The first time was good enough for him, thank you very much.

None of them liked their choices, or their odds. But they needed to make a decision before their choices ran out.

* * *

Dean had lost sight of Sam and Cas a few minutes ago. They were walking in the treeline, trying to get close enough to the house with what little foliage cover they had. They insisted Dean stay behind with the colt until they cleared out most of the demons- which would be a simple enough task for them. They didn't want to risk putting the colt in jeopardy. Dean was leaning against the same tree, jagged bark jutting into his back as he went over the plan.

He was going to enter through the back- hopefully, by the time Sam and Cas finished off the guards, they could pin Legion inside. They had 3 bullets. That didn't mean they had to waste them. For now, Dean just had to wait for the signal.

* * *

The house loomed in front of them. Windows like eyes peered out. Sam adjusted his grip on his demon blade, casting a glance around. He watched as Cas slid the angel blade out from its usual place in his trench coat sleeve. Sam still had no idea how he kept it up there all the time, but he wasn't going to complain. He paused, nodding to Cas, who nodded back.

They waited a moment before approaching. Sam went first, Cas trailing close behind him.

Sam finally placed the feeling in his gut, the instinct that was telling him something was off before he consciously realized why. The guards were gone. All of them. There wasn't a demon in sight.

Cas' grip tightened on his blade, sharing a glance with Sam that confirmed that he'd also noticed something was off. Sam still had his devil's trap bullets, but he didn't want to make a commotion, not yet. They might still have the element of surprise.

It was quiet. Every step he took sounded like a thunderclap in his ears, every little leaf that crunched under his shoe. Even the forest was silent, and all Sam could hear was the roar of blood in his ears, pumping hard with adrenaline. Sam motioned for Cas to follow him, and they stuck close together as they searched the rest of the side of the house.

Nothing. It was empty. Not a demon in sight, which was decidedly not a good thing.

Sam was about to round a corner when something caught his eye. A back door opened. He doubled back around the corner, stacking against the wall as he waited for the demon to come their way.

He finally did. Sam pulled him around the corner, out of view, and threw him to the ground. Cas stepped forward, plunging a knife through the demon's chest.

Sam could hear footsteps pounding inside the house. "Cas?" Sam took a step back, sparing a split-second glance at the angel, who was just now jerking his blade out of the body, standing up. A door flew open, and two more demons filed out.

"He knows we're here," Cas said urgently, tugging Sam away from the door.

"Dammit," Sam cursed, stumbling after him. They needed time. They needed _backup._ What were they thinking?

He whipped in a circle as more demons appeared- the 10 or so quickly became a dozen, 15, 20, filing out of the house like termites coming out of woodwork.

 _Shit._ Legion had already seen them. The moment they were on that bridge, the moment they saw the building that Legion was holing up in- Legion had seen them. He'd known where they were with every step they took.

He had eyes everywhere.

Cas and Sam faced their soon-to-be-attackers. Sam finally took out his gun, fully preparing to start shooting.

Finally the last demon filed out.

Apparently they were smart. Rather than coming at them one at a time, they collectively attacked: it was impossible for the hunters to anticipate every movement. One of the larger demons stepped towards Cas just as he was finishing off one behind him.

He turned to face him, but as he did another demon launched itself forward, not at him, but at Sam. Sam's exorcism was cut off mid-sentence as the demon brought his weapon down on the younger Winchester.

* * *

 **I'm gonna try my best to stop on cliffhangers, because I know how much you all love them. Muahahahahaha**


	7. The Broken Angel

If you didn't notice, this title was shown in a short cut-screen from Stuck in the Middle With You. I like dropping little easter eggs to prepare my readers, I'm nice like that.

RECAP:

Finally the last demon filed out.

Apparently they were smart. Rather than coming at them one at a time, they collectively attacked: it was impossible for the hunters to anticipate every movement. One of the larger demons stepped towards Cas just as he was finishing off one behind him. He turned to face him, but as he did another demon launched itself forward, not at him, but at Sam. His exorcism was cut off mid-sentence as the demon brought his weapon down on the younger Winchester.

* * *

CHAPTER 7: THE BROKEN ANGEL

Dean didn't like sending Cas in when he was injured. The angel had tried to play it off, but Dean noticed him falling behind on the way up. He hadn't said anything- Dean didn't know if that should make him more or less worried.

At least he wasn't going in alone. Sam was with him, and they were both more than capable of defending themselves.

What the hell? Dean cursed under his breath as he watched the demons go back inside. Plan be damned. Something was wrong.

Dean snuck towards the house, trying to be quiet as he sidled up to one of the windows. The shadows cast by the setting sun provided him some additional stealth.

There were six more demons inside. As he watched, two of them ran outside. He quickly ducked back down as they passed by the window, but they hadn't seen him.

He heard footsteps. Grunting. Cursing. Hurried words that he couldn't quite make out. Latin?

Sam. That was Sam.

So much for the element of surprise.

* * *

"Sam!" Cas twisted, sending his dagger into the demon that dared lay a hand on Sam. He crumpled to the ground, where Sam was already laying, a tangled mass of limbs.

Cas didn't have time to check on him- the demons weren't waiting. He twisted, wrenching out of the grasp of one of the demons that was trying to restrain him before putting a blade in his neck. He went for the one that dared lay a hand on his charge next, sending a blade through him perhaps a bit harsher than necessary before turning to face the others.

One of them knocked him down flat on his back. He looked up dazedly, breath knocked out of him, and was about to force himself back up when the demon stepped on his arm, crushing his wrist under his boot.

Cas gasped, letting his hand go lax. The demon swooped down to pick up the blade, digging it under Cas' chin.

"Get up."

Cas eyed the blade, then the demon holding it. He could undoubtedly disarm the demon without much difficulty, but that would still leave the dozen or so for him to kill. He already felt weak as it was, and the wound he'd acquired earlier was doing nothing to help his already waning grace.

He grudgingly complied. As soon as he was on two feet, three demons came up behind him to keep him contained.

His arms were wrenched behind him, and a hand on his back forced him to lean forward so he had to look up at one of the demons approaching him. Sam was completely blocked from his view, but Cas heard a small grunt. He was alive. Injured, no doubt, but breathing. He turned his attention back to the demon, smiling down at him with a mouth full of nails. His eyes roved over Cas like he was taking in the sight of some trophy. His gaze flicked to one of the demons standing nearby and he nodded once.

There was a dull snap. A shoe connected with the front of his knee and it gave out under him, sending spears of pain shooting up through his body as he fell to his knees on the ground, jarring him to the bone. He screamed out- if it hadn't been for the demons holding him down, he was sure he would have pitched face-first into the ground. As it was, all he could do was grit his teeth and glare, despising himself for how easily he was incapacitated.

Sam watched as one of the demons bent down until he was just above eye level with Cas. He tried to get up, tried to help, but just when he thought he could get his feet under him the ground started swimming. He shut his eyes against the vertigo, and when he opened them again he saw the demon move to stand in front of Cas. All he could see from the ground was a tangle of legs, but he heard the demon speak, addressing Cas.

"I thought I told you to get up," the demon sneered down at him in a challenge. He waved Cas' angel blade in his face, taunting him with it. Two of the demons came around to Cas' sides, manhandling him until he was able to stand.

Sam grunted as his feet were forced under him. Cas stumbled, realizing quickly that he couldn't put any weight on his most likely shattered kneecap. Sam swayed, looking like dead weight as the demons hauled him inside. He was disoriented, eyes clouded with pain and what was most likely a concussion. They must have just clocked him in the head. As it was, he was barely conscious.

If Cas started fighting back, he would be on his own. He wondered if Dean could see what was going on. It was too late to warn him now- if he tried, Legion would know that Cas was trying to warn someone off.

Cas limped towards the door, a flank of demons surrounding him. One of them wrenched the door open. Sam was pushed inside, barely catching himself on his hands as he fell. He was roughly shoved back up, and he looked up to see Cas already standing. He cast a worried glance at Sam, but he wasn't looking in his direction. He was watching the demon that was sauntering up to him.

"Sam. Castiel," the demon spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, showing off the other demons in the room. He paused, tilting his head. "Oh!", the door opened behind him. "And hello, Dean."

* * *

Dean stiffened when he heard a scream tear through the air.

That was a demon. It had to be a demon. Sam and Cas were fine. They had to be. He kept his head down, colt in front of him as he sprinted the length of the house, making his way towards the sounds of a fight- as he always did.

He heard scuffling, some muttered words that he couldn't quite make out that grew louder as he approached, solidifying into barked orders. He looked around the corner-

There they were. Sam, Cas, and a dozen demons. One of them turned in his direction and he ducked back around the corner.

A voice snarled with insidious humor. I thought I told you to get up.

He heard scuffling and looked back around in time to see Cas getting forced off his feet, with his own angel blade being held to his throat as he was marched towards the door. He stumbled, almost collapsing until one of the demons shot a hand out to right him. Cas skewered a glare at him, then cast his gaze down to the figure sprawled on the ground, his unadulterated hatred being replaced with concern.

Sam. For a terrifying moment Dean thought he was dead until he got hauled to his feet. He was only half-conscious, and as he watched Dean could see him begin to stir. He thrashed, casting a panicked, glazed glance around for anything that he could use to regain the upper hand. The door was flung open and they were led inside, disappearing from Dean's sight. One demon detached himself from the group to stand guard at the door.

Dean glanced down at the colt, replacing it for a knife. He couldn't start wasting bullets, not now.

The demon turned slightly away from him, giving Dean an opening to use his back for stabbing practice. He stepped forward, putting a hand over the demon's mouth to keep him quiet and prevent him from smoking out, and promptly made him a new built-in pocket in his meatsuit. His skeleton flashed orange- Dean only dropped him to the ground when he felt him go boneless in his grip. He kicked the body away from the door, keeping his knife at the ready as he reached for the handle.

He swung it open, keeping a hand on the knob to prevent the door from swinging into the wall.

Cas and Sam were standing, facing the door. He knew that they had seen him, but neither of them acknowledged him. Sam flicked his eyes up and down over the demon, the only semblance of a nod he could make without it seeming suspicious. It was a silent confirmation- this was Legion.

Nevertheless Dean put a finger to his lips to silence them as he crept forward, replacing the blade with the colt. He barely got a step before the demon straightened, tipping his head thoughtfully to the side.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean didn't miss a beat as he raised the gun to aim it at the demon's face, which was now turned towards him. But the demon was faster than his trigger-happy finger, and he barely had time to prepare himself before he was flung into the wall next to the door. The Colt fell from his hands, clattering to the floor a few feet away. Legion brushed past him, heading towards Cas. He started thrashing, trying to get his arm out of the pin hold that the demon was restraining him in.

Legion circled Castiel. Cas kept staring forward, expression steeled. He didn't even flinch when Legion stopped at his side, leaning in close to his ear.

"Heard you've been going after my charge," he whispered, tilting his head menacingly.

Cas didn't respond. He didn't want to give Legion the satisfaction of hearing the pain that laced his voice.

The demon didn't like that.

He leaned back, looking down at Cas' shirt. He cocked his head before lazily dragging the tip of the blade across Cas' bandaged wound. Cas grunted, jerking back, but the demon restraining him pushed him forward.

"I think I'll keep you. Just for the entertainment value," his black eyes squinted at the blood now blooming up on the stark white fabric of Cas' dress shirt. "You make such funny noises."

"You sadistic son of a-", Dean was cut off when the force holding him to the wall seemed to strengthen, making his head snap back against it.

"If you touch either of them-"

Legion waved a hand, dismissing Cas' threat.

"I've had plenty of experience with your kind, angel." he smirked. Cas knew- he remembered the first time he met Legion. He'd wiped out half a garrison before Cas' half-brother Jesus finally stopped him.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried. Even at full power, which you definitely aren't at."

Cas' hand twitched, wanting nothing more than to be holding his angel blade and jamming it into the demon's vessel. It wouldn't be very effective, but it would make him feel much better. He couldn't kill Legion, that much was true. But he could at least him Legion long enough to get Dean off the wall and get the Colt back in his hands. Cas stood his ground, taking a mental stock of his physical state in preparation for what he was about to do.

Legion stepped back just as Cas lunged forward. He lost his balance slightly from his momentum, and before he got the chance to right himself Legion had delivered an uppercut to his jaw, sending his teeth chattering in his skull. He yanked him by the collar, dragging him forward. Cas grabbed at his sleeve, trying and failing to push him off.

"Cas!" Dean struggled against the invisible force pinning him to the wall, eyes flicking between Cas and the Colt lying just feet away.

Legion finally dropped him. Cas struggled to get up, but just as he propped a hand under himself to do so a line of flame began trailing towards it. He immediately snatched his hand back- the rolling heat still seared on his skin, more so than any normal fire.

Holy oil.

He scrambled back on all fours towards the center of the ring, as far away from the flame as he could manage. The ring was barely 4 feet in diameter, hardly large enough to accommodate Cas' wings. He panicked, feeling the flames tinge the outermost feathers, and folded them in as tight as he could. He was on the verge of collapse, but he knew that if he did he would have to add death to his list of current maladies.

Legion paced in front of him, having dealt with the Winchesters who were both currently pinned to the wall.

"Shame that Ramiel couldn't kill you himself," he twisted Cas' angel blade in his hand, holding it as if it might fly away at any moment. "You're so- weak. Practically human. I don't know why he wasn't able to finish you off."

Legion stepped back, nodding approvingly at the angel trap.

"I'll finish the job for him."

* * *

Whelp, that got intense. As always, please review if you have a spare moment. I know this wasn't my best work, but I'd love to hear what you think either way, be it critiques or not. Thanks for reading


	8. At the Gates of Hell

**As Casifer said in that one episode I can't remember the name of (and can't bother looking up), I'm back, baby! Hehehe, really though, sorry for the long update time. I have a bajillion other fics that I'm trying to put the finishing touches on so I can finally get them posted, and this summer has been busier than I expected. Also, this chapter title is inspired by the song by Tom Petty, I Won't Back Down.**

RECAP:

"Shame that Ramiel couldn't kill you himself," he twisted Cas' angel blade in his hand, holding it as if it might fly away at any moment. "You're so- _weak_. Practically human. I don't know why he wasn't able to finish you off."

Legion stepped back, nodding approvingly at the angel trap.

"I'll finish the job for him."

Cas stood straighter- tried to, at least. He held his head up higher, glaring down at Legion. His eyes flicked down briefly to the blade that Legion held in a loose grip, the one that he'd taken from the other demon. "Do what you want. Just- don't hurt them."

Cas wasn't one to ask for mercy, especially when it came to asking for mercy from a demon. But- well, right then, he didn't have a choice. Both Winchesters were incapacitated, and if Cas didn't do something, they'd be dead soon. Or worse.

The flames licked over the ground, casting ghostly shadows across Legion's face as he loomed over the injured angel. "Oh, my, Castiel, how you've changed since we last met. An angel cursed by hell," he squinted, "you're more intriguing than I originally thought."

The demon smirked before shooting his hand out, cricking his fingers. Cas suddenly gasped, hands going up to his throat to pry off unseen hands. He cast a wary glance down at the flames that were much too close for comfort, searing his grace and burning his vessel, before flicking his eyes back up to the demon.

"Dammit, stop!" Dean shouted. He was helpless, only able to watch as Cas turned blue in the face, the vein on his forehead popping out as the breath was squeezed out of him.

Legion smirked, teeth glinting wickedly in the firelight. Cas grunted, fingers scrabbling at the force crushing his throat.

Something seemed to change in Legion's eyes. The malice, although still there, had lost the spark of satisfaction. His fingers twitched, and his hand lowered a fraction of an inch. "It's not like you're going anywhere soon. Not like that," Legion continued, flicking the blade down to gesture towards Cas' shattered kneecap. He dropped his hand just as quickly as he raised it.

Cas dropped to one knee, gasping and coughing as his lungs tried to refill, inhaling the air tainted with smoke from the fire raging around him. He kept one hand wrapped around his side, wincing with each cough that seemed to rattle his core.

The demon turned, spreading his arms as he motioned to the demons flanking him on either side. He tipped his head back. The other demons did the same, and streams of smoke poured out of their mouths, blotting out the windows of the room as they transferred to his vessel. It only lasted a moment, with the unshakeable feeling of hell corrupting the very air they breathed before the last bit of smoke disappeared down Legion's throat. The other now-empty hosts crumpled to the floor in unison.

They were all dead. Now that he was actually looking, Dean could see the burnt skin around their eyes, a sign that the vessels had literally gotten burnt out, like an old car engine.

Legion stepped back, head dipping for a moment before he seemed to compose himself.

"Sorry about that. It can be- disorienting. Having so many different vessels. Like looking through a kaleidoscope."

"You just love hearing yourself talk, don't you?" Dean snarked.

Legion rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Can you blame me? I haven't been out since biblical times. I just want a little fun time."

Legion turned at the sounds of Sam struggling, trying to prop himself up against the wall as Legion advanced, crouching in front of him.

There are things worse than death. Sam knew that firsthand from being stuck in Lucifer's cage. He knew, because he's been on the receiving end of "worse than death", as well as actual death, multiple times.

Which was why he's pretty sure that's what he was facing right then, with Legion's face just inches from his. The feeling was solidified when Sam spit in his face.

Legion flinched, dragging a sleeve across his face. He glared down at Sam before standing, stalking a few steps back.

"Are you gonna kill us or not?" Dean piped up, trying to distract the demon.

"Kill you?" Legion scoffed, waving a hand in the air as if brushing off that idea. He kept his eyes trained on Sam, black orbs glaring straight into his soul. Sam kept his face stony, trying to push out the fear gripping his heart.

"I'm not going to kill you."

No, even he knew that death for either of the Winchesters would be much too ambitious. He hadn't underestimated them, and he didn't plan to- he knew just what they were capable of.

"Legion, you're fight is with me-"

"Shut up." Legion skewered a glare in Cas' direction, but he didn't need to carry through with his unspoken threat. Cas was having difficulty enough forming words.

"No," Legion continued, turning his attention back to Sam. Dean was seething, jerking against the force holding him down, eyes flicking between Cas, Legion and Sam. If he couldn't see Cas' back rising and falling with each pained breath he took, he would've thought for sure that he was dead, sprawled out in the ring of holy fire like that. "I'm going to make you one of us. I'll be the one famous for turning the Winchesters into their own worst enemies. I'll make you suffer- for years, decades. And then, when you finally turn, when you finally accept your role as one of us- then, I'll kill you."

"I would kill you right now, believe me, but that would make everything up until this moment pointless. All that planning, all that waiting for someone to catch on," he gestured to Castiel, "It took all my patience not to kill him right off the bat. But I think it was worth it."

He sauntered over to Dean. "Of course, it'll take me some time to get around the warding," he poked Dean in the ribs. Dean's eyes widened.

"You wanna go first?"

"Get the hell away from him," Sam growled.

Legion's eyes shone sharply with curiousity as his gaze flicked from Sam to Dean. He made a thoughtful noise before looking back to Dean.

"I can torture two for the price of one." Dean scowled down at him from where he was pinned on the wall. He stretched his hand out, splaying his fingers across Dean's abdomen.

Dean's eyes flew wide, face twisting in pain at the three successive cracks resounding from his ribs, accompanied with a sharp ringing as the Enochian inscriptions were rendered useless. "Hey!" Sam surged up, ignoring the spots dancing across his eyes at the strain.

Legion shot his hand out, waving it in Sam's direction. His back collided roughly with the wall again, and he fell to the ground, a mass of tangled limbs and a concussed head. He wasn't going anywhere in his state, even if Legion hadn't been keeping him in check. He released the force on Dean, who slid to the ground, breathing shallowly to avoid grinding his broken ribs.

"Dean!" Cas struggled against the nausea. It was affecting his ethereal form- he was no stranger to the effects of holy oil, but he'd rarely been exposed to it when his vessel was already so badly damaged. The fumes from the holy oil were giving him a crippling headache- he had to put every ounce of willpower that he had into stepping closer to the edge of the ring of fire, casting a glance around for anything he could use to douse the flame. He couldn't just watch, he had to do something. Legion hadn't just broken Dean's ribs- he'd broken the warding that Castiel had carved into them. All Legion had to do was destroy Dean's tattoo again, and he could- Don't think about that. It won't come to that. Not again.

Because this time, Castiel wasn't sure he could save him.

"I saw how you were before. With the Mark. We all did," Legion waved a hand behind him, presumably at the bodies that had once been demons. Dean put a tentative hand to his ribs, wincing as they shifted under the lightest touch.

Legion was trying to get to him, he knew that. That didn't lessen the blow, the heavy guilt that he thought he'd finally redeemed himself for.

"We were all very impressed. You would have made a wonderful demon. Powerful," Dean tried to filter out Legion's words, instead focusing on trying to stand, feet fumbling underneath him as he put one hand up against the wall. But Legion still wasn't letting him move. He was rooted in place, with nothing but the sound of a crackling fire to remind him that Cas was still trapped, and hurt, and worse off than either of the Winchesters. For now.

"I can give you that. The power. You won't ever have to feel guilt again."

He reached a hand out towards Dean, who jerked back despite the growing fire in his ribs, but Legion stopped mid motion. He brought his hand closer to his face, turning it over to view the new scorch marks running down his fingertips, up his forearm, hiding amid the cloth of his sleeve.

Dean's cheeks were puffing with the exertion that just standing had taken. He leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at Legion from his slumped position. A small smirk played on his lips as he saw what the demon was looking at.

"Looks like your warranty's almost up." As he said it, the tip of his pointer finger began crumbling off, fluttering to the ground.

"Yes," Legion flicked one last look at his hand. His vessel was expiring quickly.

Dean glanced sideways at Sam. His little brother wasn't looking to good either- pale, shaky. He blinked blearily, raising his head slightly from the floor. Dean wasn't sure he could even see him when Dean shot his gaze over to the Colt, lying only a few feet away. Sam could make a go for it- Legion wasn't paying attention to him. If Dean could just keep him occupied somehow. . .

"Which just means I'll need to work a bit faster."

Dean kept his eyes locked on Sam until he finally nodded, slowly. He followed his gaze to the Colt.

Dean turned his attention back to Legion.

The demon put his palm right below Dean's collarbone, where the anti-possession tattoo had been newly restored by Cas.

"No!" Cas surged forward, but he staggered back just as quickly, falling towards the center of the ring at the explosion of pain racing up through his wings, running through every bone and feather. The sleeve of his coat was on fire, and he barely had time to rip it off before he collapsed. His form was smarting as grace started glowing through his burned sleeve, bucking angrily as it tried to escape his vessel, and Cas fought to contain it. He raised his head blearily, but he couldn't see what was going on with Legion blocking his view of Dean. All he could see was the look of abject fear on Dean's face as he seemed to resign himself to his situation, helpless to do anything.

"Dean-" Cas slurred.

Dean waited for something, a burning sensation, for Legion to destroy the tattoo-

But he didn't.

He held his hand there for a few seconds. There was a slight tingling, and the fabric of Dean's shirt began to burn as if it was put under a hot iron for too long. Legion suddenly jerked his hand back, staring at it as the scorch marks leapt forward, enveloping every visible patch of skin below his sleeve. His fingertips started falling off more, like ashes being knocked off a cigarette. His thumb was now a pile of dust on the floor. Dean felt whatever was left of the force keeping him pinned to the wall start to dissipate ever so slightly.

Cas suddenly caught movement from a few feet away. He should have seen it sooner, he supposed, because he was just now realizing that Sam wasn't where he'd last seen him. He watched through the flames as Sam crawled forward, still unsure of his ability to keep his feet under him. He could see what he was trying to get to- the metal barrel of the colt glinted wickedly in the firelight. It was only a few feet away- if Cas could move out of the angel's trap, he could easily kick it over. As it was, all he could do was watch and try not to draw attention the the younger Winchester's actions.

It took an agonizingly long time- it appeared that they'd all sustained injuries in this battle. Cas suddenly felt guilty getting them involved in this. But finally- finally, Sam's fingers closed on the handle of the gun. He sat up, swaying slightly.

"I said get the hell away from him," he ground out over the ringing in his ears. The figure in front of him was swimming in his vision: he must have been hit harder than he'd thought. He swung the Colt up just as Legion turned to loom above him with a wicked smirk.

The smirk faded a fraction as the demon realized that it wasn't just staring down any old gun.

It was looking down the barrel of the gun that killed Azazel. The Colt. It's gaze flicked from the barrel of the gun to the wielder. His eyes started flickering again in a display of power, like they had when they'd first run into him. Hundreds of red eyes, thousands of black, flickering like an old video reel until they returned to their normal yellow.

He wouldn't be as easy to kill as the Princes. He would avenge them.

"I'm already everywhere. In everything. This vessel is nothing to me."

The others had made the mistake of underestimating the Winchesters. He knew their capabilities. He'd planned around it. He'd _counted_ on it.

The demon narrowed his eyes, which were still flickering., The sneering smirk was back. "We are Legion. Kill me, and more will take my place."

Sam didn't know why he was hesitating. The demons yellow eyes were paralyzing him, making it hard to think. His finger tightened on the trigger.

A single crack rang out, the sound bouncing around the walls of the room before echoing into silence. Legion's head snapped back from the force. Electricity fritzed from the well-placed hole in his forehead, and then he collapsed.

The body falling to the ground gave Castiel a minutiae of relief. He could see Dean rushing towards him through the spots in his vision, arm wrapped around his ribcage, before he succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

 **Thanks to my guest reader for pointing out the mistake with Legion's name- this is what happens when I'm writing at 2 in the morning. Also to the other guest reader in response to your suggestions, I completely agree, I felt like the ending was a bit rushed, which is something I tend to do at the end of a story because I really don't like storylines that are excessively (and needlessly) dragged out. But I still took your suggestions into mind, and I edited this and the next chapter.**


	9. Don't End in Blood

**Wow. Thanks to everyone that's reviewed, I love reading what you guys have to say. This is the final installment- finally. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This chapter is longer than the others, but I didn't see the point in splitting it up. Hope you enjoy! There are some spoilers for season 12, but it's not in depth and it doesn't spoil the finale.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 9: DON'T END IN BLOOD**

Sam stood in shock for a moment, staring at the body still fritzing with random spazzes of gold light. He could already feel his adrenaline start to ebb, making him all the more aware of the throbbing behind his eyes and the nasty lump that was already beginning to form on his head.

Dean pushed himself off the wall with a grunt and began limping towards the other end of the room. Cas was still trapped in the ring of holy fire- it had died down in the time he'd been trapped in it, and the flames were only a few inches tall now. Nevertheless Dean stripped off his jacket as he lumbered over, bending down to smother the flame, grinding his teeth in sync with his bones at the starburst of pain erupting from that simple motion. Sam was on the other side, using a similar tactic. The fire flared for a moment before dying down, leaving a ring of smudged ash.

"Cas?" The angel was half-sprawled in the middle of the circle, no doubt trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid the fire. The trench coat was in flames at his feet- Sam went around to stamp it out, taking note of the scorch marks running along the right side, eating away at the sleeve.

Dean slapped Cas' cheek lightly, trying to get him to wake up. "Cas?" He didn't move. Dean felt worry niggling at the back of his mind.

Oh, how he wished he'd been the one to shoot that creepy bastard for doing this. . .

Sam tucked the colt back into his waistband, fingers fumbling for the artery under Cas' jaw. He sagged in relief when he felt the pulse of blood pushing against his touch. Cas began to stir just as he was withdrawing his hand, eyes peeling open as he blinked up at them owlishly.

"Dean? Sam?" His voice was hoarser than normal as he propped himself up, studying them. "Are you okay?"

Dean chuckled bitterly, rolling his eyes. He helped Cas sit up, saying nothing when Cas reached up to grab his arm for extra support.

"We'll live. Which is more than what we can say for him," Dean inclined his head towards the body nearby, now with an extra hole in his head.

Cas barely spared a second glance at the body, letting relief flood over him for a moment. It was quickly quelled by Legion's last words to them- _We are Legion. Kill me, and more will take my place_.

Dean's attempt at a victorious smirk came out as more of a pained grimace- they'd failed. Cas barely caught it. His eyes sharpened through the bleary fog hovering over them. "Are you injured?" he repeated, more firmly this time. Dean saw that he wasn't about to let it go, so he relented.

"Sam's got a concussion, I've got busted ribs. Nothing we've never dealt with. Can you stand?"

Cas sucked a breath in, finally letting himself take stock of his own injuries. "Yeah, I- I think so-" he started trying to get his feet under him. He got halfway up before he cried out when he put weight on his busted leg. Dean hooked an arm around Cas' to keep him upright, shifting a wary glance at Cas' knee.

"Think you can heal it yet?"

Cas shook his head, looking down at his leg, which was bent inwards at an impossible angle. There was a jagged shard of white, barely visible, poking out from it. He swallowed hard, quickly looking away.

"It's healing. It'll take time."

Dean nodded, sharing a skeptical look with Sam. He really shouldn't be walking at all, angel or not, but it's not like they had crutches in their trunk's stash of weapons. Sam went on Cas' other side, holding his arm as they maneuvered to the door. It creaked open, filling the room with the sound of crickets carried in by the cool night breeze.

They went as far as the front porch before Cas collapsed again, almost sending Dean down with him.

"Hey- easy, easy," Dean put a hand to his chest to keep him from pitching forward. They eased him down on the front steps, taking stock of their options.

Dean dug his hand in his pocket, cursing internally when he didn't immediately find what he was looking for. He finally produced the keys, tossing them to Sam.

"Can you bring the Impala around?"

Sam stared at the keys in his hand, momentarily in shock.

"Uh- sure. Yeah." That was probably a terrible idea, as Sam was still having difficulty keeping both feet on the ground. He squinted, trying to find which key was for the impala. Not even thinking, with his uncooperative brain, that he'd have to make the trek back first.

"Wait-" Cas shifted, using the handrail of the porch to haul himself up. He lurched forward, but Sam shot his arms out to steady him just as his knee buckled. Cas sagged against him, half collapsed. Sam's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as Cas raised an unsteady hand to his forehead.

Sam realized what he was doing and started to push his hand away. "No, Cas, you don't have to-"

"Shut up," Cas said gruffly. Sam obliged- Cas learned how to be stubborn from the best.

It took much longer than usual, and Sam had to suppress a wince as he felt every stage of a healing concussion in the course of a few minutes. Cas' power reflected the state of his grace, and right now his grace was barely hanging on by a thread. When he finally withdrew his hand Sam was practically carrying him, but the muddle in his mind was gone. Mostly.

"Thank you, Cas." Sam shot a hand out as Cas started swaying like a blade of grass. He brought Cas over to Dean, who helped him sit back against the steps, keeping a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from keeling over.

Dean nodded to his brother as a subtle signal to hurry. He only watched Sam retrace their steps through the woods for a few seconds before turning to sit next to Cas. Yeah, so maybe it wasn't the best idea giving his still slightly concussed brother the keys to his most prized possession, but it's not like they had many options here, and there was no way in hell Dean was going to leave Cas' side again. It seemed every time he turned around the angel was trying his damndest to get himself killed.

Dean began shrugging off his jacket, which was still charred from when he used it to snuff out the fire. Cas didn't spare him a second glance, eyes only shifting towards him for a second before he turned his attention back to anything else that would distract him from looking down at his vessel's- no- his leg. He still found it hard to believe at times that he was the only one in this body. It was his. That suspicious-looking shard of white poking out of his leg was his bone.

"Stay there," Dean stood, walking a few paces as he kicked around at the detritus. He paused, reaching down to produce a good-sized branch, about a foot long and an inch thick.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a splint," he sat back down, pursing his lips at the mess of bone and blood that was making up Cas' knee. "Look, Wolverine healing factor or not, that's gonna need some help healing."

Dean paused, noticing the tightness in Cas' jaw. "Sorry, man."

"No, I- I understand."

Dean was gonna hate himself for putting Cas through even more pain than he was already in. "Can you straighten your leg?"

Cas nodded, bowing his head to keep his composure. He tightened his grip on the edge of the step as he forced his knee to cooperate. His vision whited out for a moment, quickly darkening as a burst of pain shot up his side. His nerves were fire lacing through him.

Dean leaned in closer to get a better look, wrinkling his nose at the smell of burnt hair assaulting his senses when Cas' hair brushed his shoulder.

"Jeez, Cas, you smell like you went through a few rounds with a flamethrower."

Cas tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but he couldn't move much without aggravating his leg more. "That isn't very far off from what actually happened," he said drily. Dean shook his head angrily as he put the stick in place.

They shouldn't have made Cas come at all, not when Dean knew he was still recovering from that stab wound. Which, now that he thought about it, Dean would need to check on.

Cas grunted as Dean began tying off the splint, but Dean had made sure that it wasn't tight enough to shift bone.

"Sorry," Dean said.

"It's not that. The holy fire. It - it damaged my wings. And-" Cas lifted the arm that he'd had wrapped around his side gingerly for Dean to see.

"Dammit, Cas-" Dean grabbed the back of Cas' hand, pulling his arm closer. How had he not noticed that? The sleeve of Cas' suit jacket- because his trench coat was already pretty much burned beyond recovery- was burned along with his dress shirt, showing a patch of red, inflamed skin underneath. Like any wound he acquired, it glowed blue with grace- but the glow didn't disappear over time. It pulsed like a heartbeat, faint but still barely visible in the dark of night. Dean scrambled, making Cas put a hand on the wound to stem the flow of grace as he searched for a suitable replacement tourniquet.

" _Dammit_. . ." Dean breathed under his breath, shifting closer. Cas' eyes were glassy- his eyelids were drooping.

"I shouldn've gotten you two involved." He stared at nothing with empty eyes, head bobbing up and down in stupor.

Dean barely paused in his search to throw Cas an incredulous look, almost not believing that of all concerns Cas could have at that moment, he was still worried about Dean and Sam.

"Shut up, Cas- stay awake-"

Sure, he'd been hurt, but he hadn't lost _too_ much blood. Not enough to warrant passing out. Right?

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Dean slapped Cas' hand aside, where it had ventured back to the area just under his ribcage. Cas' hand was moved too easily: under the porch light, Dean could see the dark stain on his dress shirt.

He'd been holding his _guts_ in this whole time?

"Cas, why the hell didn't you tell me you tore your stitches?" Dean began frantically unbuttoning his shirt to see the extent of the damage, with only minor protests from Cas.

"Wha- oh," Cas looked down, "I didn't - think it. . . m- mattered at th' time." He craned his head to look, letting out a groan of pain as he rolled his head back, scrunching his eyes closed. Compared to everything else, it wasn't completely life-threatening- but _coupled_ with everything, it most definitely was.

The shirt stuck to his skin where the blood had already dried. Six. Six stitches torn out. But the wound was deep enough that six was _bad._

Dean's jacket was being used to tie off the splint, so he helped Cas shrug out of his suit jacket so he could pack it against the wound. He situated Cas against the side of the porch for more support, kneeling next to him. Dean shoved the jacket into the wound, and Cas doubled forward with a grunt, half moving to shove Dean away before correcting the movement, shooting a hand out to grab Dean's shoulder. Cas' pain manifested into a fierce will to live, born of centuries as a soldier. He was a fighter. He would get through this. He had to.

When the grace that had been escaping was smothered, Dean noticed that it got just a little bit darker. Cas let his head thud dully on his hand, fingers clutching the flannel. Dean was half afraid that he'd passed out, but his breathing hadn't evened out, and he was still clutching his shoulder like a lifeline. Dean let him stay like that while he caught his breath. Slight shudders ran through his body with each breath Cas took- now that he could examine it, Dean saw that Cas' hair was shorter on one side, curled up in different directions where it had been burned away.

Damn.

"Didn't save any mojo for yourself, did you?"

He could feel Cas shake his head once against his shoulder. He'd used it all up for Sam. Typical.

How close had Cas come to dying tonight? They'd already had so many people die for them. Too damn many. Dean couldn't imagine adding Cas to that list. That was too close. Way too close, Dean realized, as he watched the black fabric of the jacket saturate as it absorbed blood.

* * *

Sam's running steps slowed to a stop. He spun in place, trying to get his bearings. The immediate area was unfamiliar to him, but maybe that was just because it was dark. The sky was blocked out by the trees towering above, with pinpricks of black shining through the shapes of the leaves. There were no stars to guide him. Nothing to reassure him that he was going the right way. He growled under his breath, kicking a stray rock in mindless frustration. He watched it's movement as it skittered away, rolling into an indent in the soft earth. It was just barely visible in the dark, but he could clearly make out the shape.

It was a shoeprint. Hopefully it wasn't his own, or he was really screwed.

He followed the prints for a few minutes, pausing every now and then to make sure that he hadn't lost the trail.

He finally saw an end in the trees. He could see the road below- and there was the impala, parked right where they left it. Sam's steps sped up again.

"I'm coming, guys. Just hang on."

* * *

Cas leaned back, shifting his eyes up to the sky. His breath came out in huffs between clenched teeth, each more jarring than the last. He let his eyes slip closed.

Dean shifted, patting the side of his face. "Hey- hey, buddy, I need you to keep your eyes open for me."

Cas' eyelashes fluttered as he fought the weight dragging him into sleep. Always fighting. "Blinking," he said defensively, flicking his eyes up to Dean before dragging them back down to where Dean was pressing the jacket into his wound. He brought both hands up to clutch the jacket, the bones in his knuckles shifting as he tightened his fist.

Dean couldn't shake those words. _Just don't hurt them._

Always the martyr. The idiot didn't know how important he was. This sad, doomed little world- it needed him, too.

 _Just don't hurt them._

Dean knew, without a doubt, that he and Sam would say the same for Cas if their roles had been reversed. _Don't hurt him_. Probably with a few choice expletives directed towards whoever- _what_ ever was threatening him.

But. . . did Cas know that?

Dean peeled the jacket away slightly- the wound was still bleeding, but barely. He'd almost gotten it to stop completely, and this time no grace trickled out of the gash. He sighed in relief as he pressed the jacket back down, letting his muscles untense.

"Looks like we're out of the woods," he chuckled despite himself, trying to lighten the mood as he looked around at the trees surrounding them. "Well, not literally, right?"

He waited for a reaction from Cas as he peered into the trees, waiting for the headlights to pierce through the dark. Cas was silent.

He looked down. Cas' eyes were closed.

"Dammit! Cas!" Dean surged forward, grabbing Cas by the shoulders.

"Cas!"

* * *

Sam winced as the car bounced, tires spinning as it tried to drive through a muddy patch. Every muscle was tense and wired, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he willed the car to power through.

"C'mon, c'mon," at this point, Sam didn't even care that the car was sporting several scratches along the sides where she'd gone through the trees. He could worry about Dean killing him _after_ they were all safe.

For now, he just needed to get there. And he really, _really_ didn't have time for this right now. It'd been- what, 20 minutes? 30?

He just hoped he wasn't too late.

* * *

Dammit, he should've been paying attention.

Dean shook him slightly. His head lolled down, hanging between his shoulders. Dean shoved two fingers under his jaw- he was still breathing.

"Cas, c'mon, man, Sam must be on his way back by now, just hang on, please."

"Cas! C'mon, lemme see your eyes."

Cas' eyebrows pinched at the urgent cadence of his voice.

"Ungh- you're shouting," he let his head fall back against the porch handrail, throat bobbing as he swallowed. His fingers twitched, hand tightening into a fist in the cloth of the jacket before splaying flat.

"Jesus, man," Dean huffed, sitting back.

Cas took as deep a breath as he could as he slowly peeled his eyes open, staring straight in front of him in concentration as he tried to think around the pain. . "Can- can you k-keep me aw-awake?"

Dean nodded, sucking in a breath. Cas' request was simple enough, but Dean could feel the weight behind it, the tired heaviness that showed in more than just his voice. He looked so small, so broken- he was scared to fall asleep.

Dean had to keep him awake. The easiest way to do that was to get him to talk, which was still probably not the best thing for him to be doing at the moment. He waited a moment for Cas to catch his breath.

Maybe Cas didn't have to talk. Maybe he could just listen for once.

"Cas, you- you know what you mean to me and Sam, right?"

Cas looked up, shifting slightly, face drawn and pale. His eyebrows drew together as he studied the man sitting next to him. His expression was blank.

"I mean, I know we don't really act like it, but-"

"We-We're friends." Cas finished for him.

"No," Dean shook his head, "We're _family_ , Cas. And I- I can't have your death on my head. I couldn't-" Dean's mouth was pressed in a thin line, "I couldn't live with that."

Dean wasn't sure if he was listening.

"Got it?"

Cas ducked his gaze, nodding once. "Yes. I-"

Cas never got the chance to voice whatever he was about to say. A second later they heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine. It veered to the right, practically doing a wheelie as it lurched to a stop a few feet away from them, and Dean had to resist the urge to tell off his brother for being a crappy driver.

Sam got out, leaving the driver's side door open as he went around back to rifle through the trunk for a few moments. Dean stood, helping Cas up- it was much easier this time with the makeshift splint preventing Cas from faceplanting.

Sam finally found what he was looking for- a bottle of painkillers. He shoved it into Dean's hands as he ran over to where Cas was swaying like a blade of grass, slinging an arm around Cas' shoulders as he helped him hobble back to the car.

"What took you so damn long?" Dean grumbled.

"Had to find a way through the woods with the car. Y'know, it's not the most practical for off-roading."

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam helped Cas lean against the door to gain his bearings, casting a glance at Cas' newly patched up knee. He finally voiced what he knew was on everyone's mind.

"You think Dagon's still nearby?"

Cas sighed, his shoulders slumping even more. "Most likely," he shifted in place, looking away, "He wouldn't abandon his charge just to come after us. I should-", Cas trailed off, uncertain of what exactly he should be doing, or what he even _could_ do in his condition. Legion was still alive. He was still out there, and while that meant the trail on Dagon wasn't entirely gone, it also meant one more threat to the Winchesters.

He didn't want to part ways with the brothers just yet, but he was virtually useless to them right now anyway. His knee hadn't started healing yet, but he could feel his gut wound slowly begin to stitch back together excruciatingly slow, and he could feel every muscle, every bit of torn flesh and attempt to fit back together in their respective places. He closed his eyes against the wave of pain. He didn't want to open them again. But he could still feel the Winchesters' eyes on him, waiting to attend to the first sign of pain. He had to stay awake. They would go their separate ways again- he would see them off, and then, and _only_ then, would he allow himself to collapse. His mission wasn't done. They weren't safe yet.

"C'mon, Cas," Sam said gently, inclining his head towards the Impala, "Let's go home."

"I'm okay," Cas insisted, even as he felt the last of his adrenaline dying out. Dean caught him before he could fall, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm not okay," Cas shook his head.

"Yeah, we got you," Sam said. He let himself be prodded into the backseat of the impala. A moment later the driver's side door creaked opened, but before Dean could get inside Sam was giving him a pointed look. Dean winced internally at the thought of letting his brother drive again- but he knew just how fun it was to drive with busted ribs. He rolled his eyes, trudging over to sit in the back with Cas while Sam practically dove into the driver's seat.

Dean turned halfway so he could keep an eye on Cas. Sam started the engine, flicking a concerned glance at the passenger in the back.

"Let's never do that again."

"Agreed."

The rhythmic purring of the engine filled the silence, almost enough to lull Cas to sleep. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Dean's nerves turned to ice, and he shared a worried glance with Sam in the rearview. Cas was _fine_ \- okay, maybe the acronym for fine.

"I'm getting blood all over."

Dean sighed in relief, shaking his head. "It's okay, Sam's puked back here plenty of times when he was a kid. It washes out."

"What? No I- Dean, c'mon, that was, like, one time. "

Dean smirked as his brother's protests died down. He suddenly remembered the bottle in his pocket, pills rattling along with the engine. He dug it out, tossing it to Cas, who fumbled before catching it.

Cas peered at the label for a second. "How many should I take?"

"For you? Probably, like, 20." Dean watched as Cas meticulously counted out 20 pills before he eventually just shook out a handful. "We can crash at a motel room tonight to get everybody patched up."

"Thank you," Cas said.

"I really wasn't planning on staying the night here anyway, so-"

"No, I mean- thank you."

"For what?"

Cas smiled. "For everything."

This was his family. He found it all on his own. It was small, and broken.

But it was good.

* * *

 **Wow. Ok. I can honestly say that quoting Lilo and Stitch is a first for me, as is having an ending that doesn't make sad. I really need to work on my endings. Please don't refrain from telling me your opinion- good? Bad? I remember someone in one of my first fics likened me to cancer, but I don't think it was _that_ bad, and either way they completely missed the entire premise so I don't think they even read it- anyway, the point is, I'm very accepting of any and all types of reviews, because it means that someone actually took the time to give me their opinion. So. . . I hope you liked it, but if you didn't, oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ **

**(Btw it took me a long time to figure out how to do that smiley face shrug thing so you better appreciate it)**


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